


Lost Without You

by ash_mcj



Series: Teen Wolf Events 2021 [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: College Graduate Stiles Stilinski, Deputy Derek Hale, Derek Hale Deserves Nice Things, Derek Hale Loves Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale Plays Piano, Derek Hale in Sweaters, Getting Together, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Songfic, Sterek Week, Stiles Stilinski Loves Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski is a Nice Thing, sterek, sterekvalentineweek2021
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-12 16:01:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29387382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ash_mcj/pseuds/ash_mcj
Summary: Derek made a deal. A very stupid, no-good, mortifying deal because he couldn’t bear to tell his idiotic (secret) mate no.--“You guys didn’t know that Derek plays piano?” Cora asked, her eyebrows furrowed. “He’s played since before I was born.”“He was good,” Peter recalled. “He used to sing, too. Put on little concerts for the pups.”“That was a long time ago,” Derek clipped. “Doesn’t matter now - I don’t play anymore.”"Derek," Stiles whined childishly. He scooted closer to him and grabbed onto his arm to gently shake him. “C'mon, Sourwolf, my life will never be complete until I hear you sing. I’ll do anything. I’ll streak across the lacrosse field during our final match, if you perform for us right now.”"When you graduate," Derek relented.---And then Stiles graduated. And Derek had to perform for him. And then the fact that Derek saw Stiles as his mate wasn’t a secret anymore.---(For~ Sterek Valentine Week 2021; Day 3 and 4: Secret Crush and Love Song)**Songfic to "Lost Without You" by Freya Ridings
Relationships: Chris Argent/Peter Hale, Derek Hale & Sheriff Stilinski, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: Teen Wolf Events 2021 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2152587
Comments: 40
Kudos: 277
Collections: Sterek Valentine Week





	Lost Without You

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for Day 4, but it fit Day 3's theme so well that I'm just considering it a mixture of the two days.
> 
> (Italics are flashbacks and happen in the past)

After the graduation ceremony concluded, Noah and Derek made their way off to the side of the large recreational center, away from the crowd gathering in the middle to greet their graduates. 

“So...is today the day?” Noah asked softly, just loud enough for Derek to hear in the busy room. “I mean, you’ve been waiting almost six years, and you’ve run out of excuses.”

This was true. There was always a reason for Derek to postpone telling Stiles that he was completely in love with him...that his wolf claimed him as his mate...that he was his anchor. 

That he meant the fucking world to him.

First, it was his age. Then, it was college. Now? Now there was no excuse, and by the way Noah was staring at him with a stern eyebrow raised, he was going to have to grow some balls and finally do it.

“I guess,” Derek sighed, earning a supportive clap on the shoulder.

Suddenly, Derek caught the familiar scent of cinnamon, and looked up to see Stiles making his way over to the two men. His hair was even longer than it had been last winter, when he came to Beacon Hills for his break. It was nearly at his shoulders, hanging in a wavy shag with several strands falling in front of his shining, mole-dotted face.

“Graduating from UCLA in three years...wow.” Noah grinned and held his arms out, and Stiles flew into them. “Claudia would have been so, so proud of you, Son. And so am I, obviously.”

Tears began to brim in Stiles’ eyes and he nodded, before his sights drifted to Derek over his dad's shoulder, who had been standing a few feet away to give them privacy. They locked eyes and Derek was torn between wanting to crush him in a hug, and run out of the building so he didn’t have to tell him the secret he’d been holding onto for so long.

Noah finally moved back and pushed Stiles towards the Alpha. 

“You came,” Stiles said, and Derek wanted to punch him. 

Of course he fucking came. Not only was he his mate, but he was his Alpha. He would be going to all of his betas’ graduations, if they wanted him there.

Instead of saying anything, he held his arms out just slightly, just enough to be clear that he was offering a hug and not just standing oddly. Stiles looked at him in unmasked shock for a moment, and Derek was probably mirroring it, since they didn’t usually do this. Hug. Pushing, playful punching, occasional hitting or throwing things at each other - sure, but they didn’t hug. Derek wasn’t a hugger.

He was about to pull his arms back, realizing just how weird he was being, but Stiles surged into them before he had the chance, as if he knew he was about to backpedal.

Of course he knew - he always did.

Derek found himself tucking his face into Stiles’ neck to inhale his intoxicating, comforting scent that made Derek's wolf rumble happily as the smaller man embraced him. The hug was longer than the one with Noah, but Derek still hated when Stiles eventually pulled away.

He didn’t move completely out of his space, though. His hands lingered lightly on Derek’s bicep as he looked up at him with a mixture of emotions that Derek couldn’t quite determine. “You owe me something.”

Derek blanched and felt his anxiety soar in his chest as his mind scrambled to figure out what he could mean. Did he know? Was he referring to Derek’s confession? How long had he known? Did he never say anything because he didn’t feel the same way?

Stiles tightened his grip on his arms to bring his attention back, and elaborated, “I graduated a year early, because you told me you’d perform for me like you used to when you were younger, remember? We made a deal. I graduate college, you’ll sing and show me your piano skills. So...I graduated.”

He was right. Derek had been so nervous about telling Stiles his feelings for him, that he’d totally forgotten that mortifying deal.

* * *

_The pack was gathered in the living room of the rebuilt Hale house, passing around bags of chips and the bucket of buffalo wings Isaac had picked up on his way over to the Pack Night._

_“Okay, I have a question,” Stiles spoke up, a chicken bone sticking out the side of his mouth as he used both hands to try to get his bottle of root beer open. After several attempts, he huffed in annoyance and passed the bottle to Derek, saying, “Alpha, help.”_

_Derek rolled his eyes, but took the bottle from him and easily twisted the top off. “I’m supposed to make sure you don’t die - not open things you're too weak to open yourself.”_

_“I_ will _die without that soda,” Stiles argued as the bottle was returned to him. He took a sip and sighed dramatically, before perking up and remembering, “Oh, my question! What’s with the piano?”_

_“I was wondering about that, too,” Isaac said, looking over at where it sat proudly in the corner of the room. “Does Peter play or something?”_

_“Peter plays guitar,” Chris said immediately, earning several confused looks._

_“How do you know that?” Stiles asked, eyes flicking between Chris and Peter suspiciously._

_“Believe it or not, most people in this town tend to cross paths when we all go to the same schools," Peter told him._

_“So...who’s piano is it?” Malia asked._

_“I’m not the only person who lives in this house,” Peter pointed out, before looking over at Derek._

_“You can’t be serious," Stiles said disbelievingly. "It’s_ Derek’s?"

_“You guys didn’t know that Derek plays piano?” Cora asked, her eyebrows furrowed. “He’s played since before I was born.”_

_Derek glared at his sister and uncle for outing him, because if he had wanted the pack to know, he would have fucking told them. It didn’t matter - he never played in front of anyone. Not anymore, anyway - not since before the fire._

_“He was good,” Peter recalled. “He used to sing, too. Put on little concerts for the pups.”_

_“That was a long time ago,” Derek clipped. “Doesn’t matter now - I don’t play anymore.”_

_“Boo.” Erica frowned._

_“Why not?” Stiles asked. " I_ _f you've been playing, like, your whole life...that's a pretty big part of you."_

_"Not anymore."_

_"Derek,"_ _Stiles whined childishly. He scooted closer to him and grabbed onto his arm to gently shake him. “I_ need _to see this! I can’t even picture you playing an instrument - let alone_ singing _!”_

_Derek shrugged him off and pushed him away. “Not happening.”_

_“But why replace it, if you don’t even play it anymore?” Stiles reasoned._ _“C'mon, Sourwolf, my life will never be complete until I hear you sing."  
_

_“Tragic.”_

_“I’ll do anything. Seriously, Derek,_ anything. _I’ll streak across the lacrosse field during our final match, if you perform for us right now.”_

_“Jesus, Stiles,” Noah sighed exasperatedly as he walked into the room with a beer in hand. "I could have sworn I raised you better than public indecency."_

_“I’m genuinely both concerned and impressed that your heart didn’t skip a beat,” Peter said to teenager._

_Stiles put his arms out to his sides. "Drastic times call for drastic measures, Dad. You should be proud that I'm willing to do anything for my pack. I'm loyal."_

_"Not sure if this is a drastic situation," Chris laughed._

_"He means he's willing to do anything for Derek to serenade him," Erica corrected, before throwing a wink at Stiles._

_"I hate you," Stiles whispered harshly at her, as if the didn't think he entire room could hear him._

_“I’m not singing, and you’re not streaking,” Derek told him sternly. He would sing before he'd let Stiles streak - that just wasn't fucking happening._

_“I’ll sing for you, if you graduate,” Noah offered._

_Stiles’ face screwed up in disgust and said, “No thanks - I’ve heard your singing. The walls are thin and I've heard enough of your shower concerts.”_

_“I’ll try my very hardest not to take offence to that.”_

_“You’re a great Sheriff, Dad...we can’t be good at everything.”_

_Noah waved him off and sat on the couch beside Chris. “Fine, wound me like that. Have fun sleeping outside.”_

_“I’ll just come here - Derek can’t lock me out of his house.” Stiles shrugged._

_That was true. Derek couldn’t really tell Stiles no, no matter how hard he sometimes wanted to._

_“He lets you get away with way too much,” Noah said, smirking as he raised an accusatory eyebrow at Derek._

_If someone had told Derek two years ago, that he would consider himself friends with the sheriff, he would have told them to fuck off. Even now, he wasn't sure how it happened. How Noah went from arresting him for murder to convincing him to become his deputy. Now, Derek spent most of his days in Noah's office, talking over horrible coffee and tackling cases that they suspected had supernatural ties. Derek often wondered how most of the life he now lived had come about...the pack he'd built himself...the friendship he'd formed with Chris Argent, of all people...the weird thing that was forming between Chris and his uncle, that he didn't want to think too hard about. This wasn't the life he'd envisioned for himself, but he honestly wouldn't have wanted it any other way._

_“You really won’t ever show us your piano skills?” Stiles asked._

_And then there was Stiles, who Derek really hadn't ever thought he'd be able to_ tolerate _\- let alone actually care for. The last time his wolf really trusted anyone, his family was killed. He'd sworn when he was seventeen, that he'd never let anyone in that way again. He'd never trust anyone so explicitly. And he'd lived by that for about six and a half years, until Stiles somehow buried under his skin without him even realizing it._

 _Derek opened his mouth to tell him to fuck off, but the words died in his throat when he looked over at those big hopeful doe eyes. It was amazing to Derek, how someone who'd seen so much - been through so much - could still look so pure. Not innocent by any means...none of them were, at that point. But pure. Honest. Hopeful.Those eyes were_ _always_ _Derek’s downfall...the reason he could never say no to him._

_"When you graduate," Derek relented._

_“Really?” Stiles jumped slightly. "You're not shitting me, right? You're serious?"_

_“College," Derek clarified._

_“College?” Stiles gaped, sagging back against the couch cushions in defeat. “That’s in_ forever! _”_

_“That’s not my problem.”_

* * *

As soon as they got to the Hale house, Stiles threw his cap and gown on the coffee table and curled up on the couch, watching Derek excitedly as the werewolf dragged his feet on his way to the grand piano in the corner of the room.

Noah sat beside Stiles and sent an encouraging wink towards Derek, which did absolutely nothing to calm his nerves.

He wasn’t nervous to perform, necessarily. He’d been playing piano his entire life - it was like breathing at this point. Singing wasn’t necessarily scary either. He wasn’t the best, but he could hold a tune enough to get by and there was no point in being embarrassed about something like that - not when his entire pack hosted karaoke parties that made him want to rip his ears off.

Stiles was one of the worst singers he’d ever heard in his life and had _no_ qualms about belting songs as loud as he could after a few drinks.

“Welcome back, college grad,” Chris greeted as he came down the stairs with Peter.

“Thanks, good to be back, now shh - it’s _time_.” Stiles made jazz hands towards Derek.

“You actually got him to do it?” Peter asked, sounding genuinely impressed.

Derek was impressed, too - this was fucking ridiculous. Stiles shouldn’t have had so much influence over him.

By the time Derek had gotten himself to sit on the bench and ghost his fingers over the piano keys, his uncle and Chris had joined the Stilinskis on the couch and he officially had an audience of four. Fantastic.

He could play something simple. Twinkle Twinkle Little Star...Hot Cross Buns...some short, stupid thing that would techinically fulfill his side of the deal. 

That’s not what he did, but he could have.

Instead, he sang softly as he began playing the first few notes of a song that would undoubtedly tell Stiles how he felt, “Standing on the platform, watching you go...it’s like no other pain, I’ve ever known.”

It wasn’t exactly planned, but it was fine. He needed to tell him, anyway, right? But now there was an audience for when Stiles would reject him, which wasn’t ideal.

He looked down at Stiles’ hands in his lap, twisting and moving like they always did when he was focusing on something. As if the energy had to come out somewhere, so if he needed to focus his attention, he needed to move something.

“To love someone so much...to have no control,” Derek admitted, eyes flitting up to Stiles’, just to immediately look away when he saw that Stiles had begun squinting at him thoughtfully. Always thinking, always deciphering, always _looking_ into Derek. “You said, ‘I want to see the world’, and I said, ‘Go’.”

* * *

_“This is a horrible idea - I can’t do this,” Stiles said for at least the tenth time that week. “What if I leave and then something happens and I’m not even here to help?”_

_“You can research from LA.” Derek pointed out._

_“And for the last time, Stiles, you’re not using the never-ending supernatural disasters of Beacon Hills as an excuse to not go to college - but nice try,” Noah told him, crossing his arms over his chest as he gave him his best ‘stern dad’ impression. “Be normal for a bit, please. Give your old man some peace of mind for a few years. Go drink or party or something - I’d honestly be happy with that at this point.”_

_Derek bit back a growl at the thought of college parties. He remembered them clearly - the music, the alcohol, the drugs, the horny, unworthy guys that he didn't want anywhere near Stiles._

_“You okay, Big Guy?” Stiles asked, pulling him from his thoughts as he lightly punching the front of Derek’s shoulder. “See, Dad? I can’t leave - Derek is already having separation anxiety.”_

_Derek hated how well Stiles could always read him. The subtlest tense, the softest growl, the most miniscule change of expression...he always fucking_ knew _. He hated even more, though, that he didn’t hate it. It was almost nice to be_ seen _, in the most uncomfortable, vulnerable way that really should’ve made Derek want to avoid the teenager - but he didn’t._

_“I’ll be fine,” Derek lied, because what else was there to say? It was unspoken knowledge that Derek had trouble going even a few days without seeing Stiles. Maybe it was because he’d somehow ended up becoming his anchor over the years...maybe - probably - it was because Derek’s wolf had recognized him as his mate, whether Derek thought that was a good thing or not. His thoughts on the matter shifted daily. Not that it mattered - he had no intention of ever bringing it up. Stiles deserved a lot more than a broken wolf with more luggage than an airport. He deserved more than being stuck in this godforsaken town._

_“You guys are, like, super unprepared for_ anything _with the betas in Arizona. I can’t just go to LA and - “_

_“Yes, you can.” Derek cut him off. “We’ll be fine. Chris is a skilled hunter, your dad knows his way around guns, and Peter and I aren’t half-bad werewolves. We’ll manage.”_

_“Well, Peter is actually more than half-bad,” Stiles reasoned._

_Derek opened the driver’s door of the Jeep and motioned for him to get in._

_“But, Derek - “_

_“Go.”_

_“Jeez - glad to know I’ll be missed,” Stiles grumbled as he climbed into the Jeep and sat sideways in the seat, his legs dangling out of the car._

_“It’s not about us not wanting you around, and you know it,” Noah said._

_“I think I should have picked Berkley...that would have been so much closer. I could still be around to help.”_

_“Stiles,” Derek all but pleaded, sea glass eyes locked onto Stiles’ as he tried to convey things that he wasn’t exactly sure he could put into words. Wasn’t exactly sure he_ wanted _to speak into existence._ Please leave. Please call. Get out of this stupid town. Be safe for a few years. I’ll miss you. _“You’re going to LA.”_

_Maybe Stiles was somehow able to interpret his feelings the way he always did, or maybe he was just finally listening to his Alpha for once - but either way, he turned the correct way in his seat and pulled the door closed with a defeated sigh._

_“If you need anything researched, call,” Stiles told him sternly, leaning on the open window frame. “I’m serious - don’t get all caught up in your self-sacrificing bullshit and take on threats you know nothing about, just because you don’t want to pull me into it. Promise me you’ll call, or I won’t go.”_

_Derek fixed him with a complicated look for several long seconds, because fuck Stiles for knowing him so well. Fuck Stiles for not having any qualms about letting Derek_ know _he knew him so well. “Fine.”_

_Stiles nodded and chewed his lower lip as he looked between his father and Derek. “Okay...LA...I guess that’s something I’m about to do.”_

_“Yes, now get outta here already.” Noah pat the side of the Jeep. “Call if anything goes wrong with Roscoe and obviously when you get there.”_

_“Nothing will happen to Roscoe - Derek replaced like everything that makes her run. She’s basically brand new.”_

_Noah sent an appreciate look at Derek that he caught out of the corner of his eye, but he couldn’t tear his attention away from Stiles. He wasn’t sure when he'd see him again. The next time he’d smell that spicy cinnamon scent that took on warm vanilla tones when he was happy and something akin to dark roast coffee when he was frustrated over difficult research binges. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and scent him one last time, run his hand over the back of his neck or rub his finger into his forearm - a last claim. He didn’t though. Mainly because if he touched him, he wasn’t sure he was going to let him leave. It was hard enough saying goodbye to Isaac, Erica, Cora, and Malia, but this was...this was different._

_“Well...bye, Dad,” Stiles said, nodding towards Noah as he fished the car key out of his pocket and slotted it in the ignition. “Derek is going to make sure you don’t eat bad - right, Derek?”_

_Derek shrugged non-committedly, but they both knew that he’d honor Stiles’ wishes. Besides, Derek was pretty good at cooking and only ate healthy food anyway - which he always brought to work and shared with Noah. When had he become that guy? The guy who made extra food for his boss? Well, he knew when - it was right about the time that he realized his boss was his mate's dad. Still didn't make it any less odd...at least Noah never mentioned it._

_He should've hated it more than he did._

_The Jeep rumbled to life, but remained parked as Stiles sat there, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. The three of them were silent for a a drawn out minute, before Stiles' hand gripped the steering wheel hard enough for his knuckles to turn white, and turned to Derek with a loaded confession in his eyes._

_Derek wondered if Stiles was going to finally acknowledge whatever was growing between them. Say he knew, say he felt the same. He was smart - he had to know. This wasn't the right time, though. Maybe it never would be - but it definitely wasn't now. Not when Stiles was so close to getting away from Beacon Hills. Not when he was barely willing to leave already, and didn't need any more reasons to stay. So Derek said, "Go."_

_Stiles sagged a little, but nodded and gave him a mock-salute as he whispered, "See ya, Alpha."_

_And then he was gone, the sun glinting off the back bumper of the jeep as it drove down the street and turned a corner out of sight._

_Derek startled at the firm hand on his shoulder and looked over at Noah. His soft blue eyes shone with understanding and his mouth was twisted into something between an empathetic grimace and a sad smile._

_“I should get home,” Derek said._

_“You didn’t tell him,” Noah acknowledged. “And you didn’t let him tell you.”_

_“What do you mean?”_

_“Don’t play dumb with me, Son.”_

_Derek chewed on the inside of his lower lip as he looked down at the ground, watching the strands of grass swaying lightly in the breeze. Noah knew - of course he did. Everyone did. Derek wasn’t sure if that made it worse, that it was just some unspoken knowledge that Derek was totally gone over Stiles._

_“It...doesn’t matter,” Derek finally said._

_“If you try to tell me that you aren’t telling him because he deserves better than you, or something equally as stupid, I will go get Stiles bat and hit you with it.”_

_Derek almost laughed, but the Sheriff’s heart remained steady._

_“That’s part of it,” Derek admitted. “But it’s just...I don’t know - maybe I’ll tell him later. After he graduates. If he’s still intent on coming back here. I couldn’t do it before. Not when there’s a chance he could find a reason to stay away.”_

_Noah nodded and gave Derek’s shoulder another squeeze, before letting go. “You’re a good kid, Derek, but you’re stupid.”_

_Derek raised his eyebrows and looked taken aback for a moment. “What?”_

_“You and Stiles have been protecting each other for two and a half years. You’ve gone to Hell and back with each other, picked up trauma together, gotten_ through _trauma together. Sure, you’re both damaged, but that also makes you able to understand each other better than most people. And as much as I hate it sometimes, Stiles is just as mixed up in this supernatural bullshit as you are - and that’s not going to change. If he never came back, he’d manage to find himself some other pack to run with. This is the only way he knows how to live now.”_

_Derek knew that, deep down. Stiles wasn’t ever going to live a human life again. He was going to be throwing himself into danger until the day it killed him._

_“He’s never opened that door for me, if that makes sense. He’s never tried to actually take anything further than friendship.”_

_“Derek, Stiles has been in love with you since he was sixteen years old.”_

_“Stiles was in love with everything that moved when he was sixteen.”_

_“That’s true,” Noah chuckled. “But not like he was with you. He was always so..._ passionate _…about you. Always_ so _angry or_ so _worried or_ so _\- whatever. You’d come up in every conversation and I don’t even think Stiles would realize it. To this day.”_

 _“I can’t open that door, Sheriff. I need...I_ need _to leave that in his court. I need that to be his choice," Derek tried to stress. "I’m older. I’m...I’m his Alpha. I just don’t want him to feel..."_

 _“Obligated?” Noah guessed, and Derek nodded. “I get it. I know my son, though, and he’s...he’s a disaster. He probably thinks you don’t like him, since you’ve never made a move. He knows how obvious he is with his crushes, but he’s horrible at recognizing obvious crushes on_ him _. I guess what I’m saying is that telling him you care won’t be making his decision for him or pushing his hand. Being older or his Alpha won’t make a difference - he’s never been one to follow authority, anyway.”_

_Derek mulled it over for a moment, but his resolution was the same. “I’ll wait.”_

_“Graduation is a long way away, Derek. A lot can happen in four years.”_

_Derek nodded, because he knew. God, he knew._

* * *

He never should have agreed to do this. He never should have done this stupid song.

“But I think I’m lost without you...I just feel _crushed_ without you,” Derek intoned. “I’ve been strong for so long, that I never thought of how much I needed you.”

It was hard to even hear his own voice over the sound of blood rushing in his ears and the gradually increasing heart rate of his mate across the room. He was too far away to smell his chemosignals and he couldn’t bring himself to look at anyone else in the room, so he had no idea how Stiles was taking this. If he’d pieced it together, if he was nervous, if he was mad.

Derek was ready for some monster to burst through the window and eat him or something - but he didn’t have that much luck in his life. Monsters never seemed to come when he needed them to. Only in the most inopportune times. 

“Strangers rushing past, just trying to get home...but you were the only safe haven that I’ve known.”

Derek heard Stiles’ breath hitch and he had to close his eyes, or he was going to jump out the window himself.

* * *

_Derek was stirred awake to the soft sound of his cell phone vibrating on the nightstand. He opened one eye and looked over at it, then quickly moved to sit up upon seeing Stiles’ picture on the screen._

_As soon as he answered the FaceTime, Stiles was singing._

_“Happy birthday to you...Happy birthday to you...Happy birthday, dear Sourwolf...Happy birthday to - why are you naked?”_

_Derek rolled his eyes and tilted the phone down towards his lap to show that he was wearing sweats._

_“Oh, good, cool,” Stiles said, his voice just a bit too high-pitched to sound casual._

_Derek propped his phone up against the lamp on his nightstand and laid back against the pillows propped against the headboard._

_Derek had never liked his birthday. When he was young, it was because he hated the attention and the noise that would follow him throughout the day. Too many siblings, too many cousins, too many aunts and uncles - all giving him hugs and singing to him. It made him feel overwhelmed._

_When that was gone, he hated it even more. He hated that he didn’t cherish those birthdays before. He hated that he was allowed to have birthdays at all, when the rest of his family would never see another one of theirs. Laura tried to celebrate it at first, but it was no use. Birthdays went from noise and cake and presents, to a silent card left on the kitchen counter between work shifts, with some cash in it to spend on a new shirt or whatever they needed._

_There was really no point in celebrating living another year - not when they didn’t even want it. Not when the life they were living didn’t even feel like theirs anymore._

_“There’s a present for you on your porch,” Stiles told him. “From me, obviously.”_

_And then Derek came back to Beacon Hills, and birthdays changed again. He didn’t draw attention to it, didn’t want anyone to know. Didn’t want to make a big deal, because he didn’t see it as a reason to celebrate. But somehow, Derek still wasn’t sure how, Stiles showed up at the door to the loft on his very first birthday in town, with a blueberry muffin in hand, adorned with a glittering red candle sticking out the top._

_Just like that, birthdays were being celebrated again. Stiles told the pack and the pack decided that birthdays required pack nights, filled with food and treats and games. And Derek wanted to shut it down, but every time he tried to say something, Stiles would be there to shut down whatever reasons he tried to make up. Swore that every year was worth celebrating - especially with the lives they lived._

_And Derek, after two or three birthdays, really couldn’t argue it anymore. He was glad for every year he got to be alive, leading his pack of annoying ass betas._

_“Earth to Derek?” Stiles said and Derek huffed out a chuckle as he got out of bed and made his way downstairs, leaving Stiles in his room._

_He opened the front door to find a brown paper package sitting on his porch, familiar messy handwriting scrawled across the top reading “FOR ALPHA SOURWOLF”. The faint scent of Scott lingered on the porch and clung to the paper, so he must have dropped it off. Stiles probably left it with him when he went back to LA the week prior._

_Derek traced his fingers over Stiles’ handwriting as he went back to his bedroom and reclaimed his spot on his bed. Stiles was still on the screen, looking eagerly at him. Derek always hated unwrapping presents in front of people. He already wasn’t great at showing his feelings, and people tended to think he didn’t like their gifts if he didn’t make a show of acting happy. Then, it just seemed forced - so really, there was no great way for Derek to handle the situation. Luckily, Stiles never expected him to react._

_He began gently scratching at the tape on the side and Stiles fixed him with an impatient look, his eye twitching in annoyance._

_“Are you shitting me, Derek? You’re a fucking werewolf - just rip it open! It’s paper.”_

_Derek grabbed two ends of the brown paper and pulled, splitting the package down the middle and letting a maroon piece of clothing and a leather-bound journal tumble out onto his lap. He picked the sweater up first, and Stiles immediately jumped to explain._

_“You used to have a sweater just like that. Thumbholes and everything, you remember? It got eaten by that Wendigo a couple summers ago.”_

_“I remember.” Derek nodded, feeling the soft fabric._

_“Right - well, I saw that in the store and I thought of you because it was, like, the same...and it looked good on you - I mean, it was a nice shirt, so...I bought it.”_

_Derek’s wolf curiously prompted him to sniff the present, so he brought it to his face and inhaled deeply. As soon as the faint scent registered in his senses as_ Stiles _, his breath hitched and he held the breath as if he could prevent the smell from escaping._

_“Oh, I, uh,” Stiles stammered nervously. “I washed it. For you. And then I was worried that it might have shrunk in the dryer or something, so I put it on. To check, you know? It didn’t shrink. It was too big on me, so it should be good for you. Y’know, because you’re…” He put his hands out in front of him, facing Derek, and outlined what Derek assumed were supposed to be his shoulders, obviously much larger than Stiles’. “But anyway, that’s why it might smell like me. I tried it on. Is that...does it?”_

_Derek sniffed the sweater again, before pulling it away from his face and saying, “A little.”_

_He could’ve called Stiles out on the lie that he just ‘tried it on’, but he didn’t. The scent of sweat and skin was too strong on the clothing to have been worn any less than an entire day. Maybe even a night, as well. Otherwise, the scent would’ve been gone over the past week._

_“Oh, my God - stop sniffing it!” Stiles squeaked, flailing his hands in front of the camera as a blush bloomed across his cheeks and crept down his neck. “I don’t remember if I took a shower that day! I didn’t think you’d still be able to smell anything. Just...just wash it again.”_

_“It’s fine,” Derek assured him. It was more than fine. His wolf wanted to just bury his face in the fabric for the rest of the morning, letting the smell of his anchor and mate calm him._

_Derek worked his arms into the sweater and pulled it over his head in one swift movement. As soon as it was on, he noticed that it wasn’t the same as his old one - it was so much better. It clung to him, but was not at all restricting. The fabric was extremely soft and just thin enough to wear comfortably in the California heat._

_“I know it’s kinda stupid for a present, since you already had it before, but i just thought-” Stiles tried to say, but Derek cut him off._

_“Thanks.”_

_Stiles practically beamed and Derek could have sworn that he could feel the warmth, even through the screen._

_“Good. Awesome. Yes. You’re welcome.” Stiles nodded, clasping his large hands together as if he weren’t sure what to do with them. “Oh, and the journal was just really cool. I mean, I thought it was. I got one for myself, too, so we’re twinning now! That was stupid - it was a joke. I mean, it wasn’t a joke. I do have one, but...Yeah, forget it.”_

_Derek opened his mouth to say something, but Stiles quickly barreled on._

_“Yeah, you can write stuff in it. Y’know, whatever a Sourwolf writes in his free time. Feelings, recipes, doodles. I mean, you aren’t really a doodle guy-”_

_“But I’m a feelings guy?” Derek raised his eyebrows, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth._

_“Well I know you_ have _feelings, and only so much can come out your eyebrows,” Stiles reasoned. “Maybe you’re a journaler - how would I know? But hey - I didn’t hear a denial on recipes...is that your new mid-life hobby?”_

_“I’m not at my mid-life yet.”_

_“You’re like thirty.”_

_“I’m twenty-seven,” Derek corrected pointedly. He was not thirty, the fucking dick._

_“That’s the same thing.”_

_“It’s not.”_

_“Of course you wouldn’t think so - you’re thirty.”_

_Derek squinted at the boy, who looked rather proud of himself like the little asshole he knew he was. “Werewolves can live to one hundred and fifty, if they’re healthy enough, so I’m not considering myself middle-aged until I’m seventy.”_

_“I see,” Stiles hummed. “So you’re in denial about the implications of being thirty.”_

_“I’m not thirty!” Derek growled, but the smile on his face severely impacted his threat._

_“Don’t worry, Der, older guys are hot,” Stiles comforted him._

_“Oh, yeah - Dad Bods are the hottest,” Derek said monotonously._

_“Shut up - if you consider yourself having a Dad Bod, then at least you’re a DILF,” Stiles laughed, before his entire body violently tensed and his mouth dropped open, horrified. “I didn’t mean that, like I would want to...I mean...Look - I just meant that you’re going through the switch from sexy to daddy.”_

_Derek didn’t think it was possible for Stiles to turn redder - he was almost concerned by the amount of blood pooling in his face and neck. Part of him wondered if the warm blush stretched down his chest._

_“Good to know,” Derek teased, his smile widening to show his teeth._

_“Holy_ fuck _\- this isn’t what I’m meaning to say. I just...I haven’t even had coffee yet. I haven’t taken my meds. I’m just...no filter. I’m so sorry - you didn’t call me to get thirsted over. Not that I’m thirsting! I’m just shutting up.”_

_“I actually didn’t call you at all, so...if you called to thirst, then...”_

_“I didn’t! I’m not even - no. I’m calling to tell you happy birthday. So, happy birthday, Derek.”_

_“Thank you,” Derek told him. Stiles reached for the phone - presumedly to hang up - and Derek quickly asked, “How’s school?”_

_“Good...I made a few friends. Having some fun.” Stiles shrugged, leaning away from the phone again now that they were in a new conversation. Crisis averted - Derek wasn’t quite ready to stop talking yet. “It’s really...I don’t know,_ simple _here. Who knows - I might stay forever. Work at the local bookstore.”_

_Derek’s wolf snarled at the mention of having fun with other people - which could mean a plethora of things. Fun could be going out to bars, or it could mean hooking up at parties. And for Stiles to - even jokingly - want to stay there? Live his life with these friends, over the pack? As if they were better, as if they could make Stiles happier? His eyes flashed red before he could stop them and the carefree expression on Stiles’ face dropped to one of concern._

_“You good? Is something wrong?”_

_“Yeah...I mean, no. Nothing’s wrong.” Derek looked away and willed the red to dim back to his usual green. After a moment, he quietly said, “You should, though. Stay there.”_

_Hurt flickered across his features and before Derek could backpedal, Stiles asked, “Enjoying a break from my spastic ass, huh?”_

_“I didn’t say that.”_

_Stiles flicked his hand dismissively and gave a self-deprecating laugh. “I get it.”_

_“You don’t,” Derek denied sternly. “It’s not that - you’d just... be safer there.”_

_There was a long silence where they both stared at each other and Derek, as he often did around Stiles, felt like the boy was climbing into his body through his eyes and reading all of his feelings and secrets like a book._

_Finally, he said, “You aren’t getting rid of me that easy, Sourwolf. Who’d be your emissary?”_

_Derek breathed a sigh of relief now that a small smile had reappeared on his mate’s face. “Lydia.”_

_Stiles gaped at him. “Take it back, you dick! I could never be as good as her - you’re making me self-conscious!”_

_Derek’s wolf whined at the prospect of making Stiles feel inadequate, because he wasn’t. He was perfect._

_“You’re an idiot,” Derek said. “You’d be a better fit.”_

_“Oh please, we’re talking about_ Lydia Martin. _”_

_“We don’t have the right bond. If there isn’t a strong bond between the emissary and Alpha, the emissary won’t feel confident in keeping the Alpha in check, and the Alpha won’t trust or respect the emissary enough to take their advice.”_

_“And you would trust me with that?”_

_Derek would trust Stiles with his life. He knew without a single doubt that if Stiles told him to jump off a cliff simply because he believed there was an invisible bridge, he’d do it. The power that stupid kid had over him was honestly terrifying._

_“Maybe,” he said, but they both knew he meant ‘of course’._

_Derek’s phone vibrated with a text from Noah, reading_ ‘Hey birthday boy - picking you up in 15 for breakfast. If you aren’t out front by the time I get there, I’m turning on the sirens.’

_Stiles, noticing that Derek was leaned forward and reading something at the top of the screen, asked, “Who is it?”_

_“Your dad,” Derek answered. “He’s taking me to breakfast, I guess.”_

_Stiles shook his head amusedly. “He’s totally adopted you.”_

_“Shut up.”_

_“I’m serious! Every time I’m on the phone with him, he boasts about you like a proud parent. About your cooking skills, how awesome of a deputy you are, how you -”_

_“We’re friends, kinda.”_

_“He loves you - you’ve just gotta accept the love. Let people thaw that dark, grumpy icicle in your chest.”_

_Derek rolled his eyes. “He’s a good man.”_

_“Eh, he’s okay.” Stiles shrugged, a playful glint in his warm brown eyes. “But hey, I’ll let you go. No bacon, though! I’m serious.”_

_“For Noah or for me?”_

_Stiles looked him over thoughtfully for a moment, before saying, “Well, now that you’re in your thirties, maybe we should start cutting you back on the bacon, too.”_

_“Still not thirty.”_

_“I don’t know - I see the grey starting to come through in your beard.”_

_“Right.” Derek smirked. “Because I’m a DILF now.”_

_Stiles sputtered and flailed his arms around in a panic, before disconnecting the call._

* * *

“Hits me at full speed; I feel like I can't breathe,” Derek sang softly. His fingers trembled slightly over the piano keys at the sound of Stiles’ breath catching every so often, becoming shakier as the song neared its end. “And nobody knows this pain inside me.”

Derek felt naked - completely exposed with the weight of all of his emotions now in the air, so palpable and raw that they were nearly choking him. Years of bottling up everything he felt for that spastic kid. Years of pushing everything back and keeping the lid on. 

Just a song. Just some notes. Just like that, the bottle was shattered and Stiles _knew_ now. 

Derek finally worked up the courage to glance over at the couch and he momentarily forgot how to breathe when he met Stiles’ whiskey-colored eyes, shining with unshed tears as he almost _marveled_ at Derek. 

Derek almost wanted to cringe away from those intense amber eyes, because he’d seen Stiles go through a lot of emotions over the years - happy, sad, dopey, silly, even horny - but he’d never seen him look like this. He’d never seen Stiles look at _anyone,_ let alone _him,_ like this.

Like Stiles, for some reason, thought he was... _important,_ or something. Like maybe he deserved nice things. 

Like he was _precious._

Derek quickly looked away as his vision blurred slightly by the wetness suddenly brimming in his eyes and he tried to focus on the keys again to calm himself. No one had _ever_ looked at him that way, and he wasn’t sure how to deal with it. He wasn’t good at processing feelings, and this was...this was a lot. He wasn’t prepared enough for this.

Then again, he didn’t think anything could have prepared him for Stiles Stilinski to look at him that way.

“I've been strong for so long, that I never thought of how much I love you.” Derek’s voice cracked slightly as he practically breathed the last word, the unmistakable honesty in it causing it to hang heavily in the air after it rolled off his tongue.

A few more notes, a few more keys, and then his hands stilled and he clenched them tightly at either side of his lap on the piano bench to stop them from shaking now that they weren’t occupied. 

The room was silent for a few seconds - or maybe it was a few minutes, Derek wasn’t sure. It felt like it could have possibly been a few years.

And then he looked over at Stiles.

They probably could have stayed there for hours, staring, terrified to say anything because they both knew that as soon as someone spoke, they were going to be in completely uncharted waters. They didn’t get the chance to sit on the tipping point for long, though, because Noah reached out and gently pushed Stiles off the couch.

Then Stiles was beside him, whispering, “Was that...I mean…I’m not just, like, looking too hard, right? That was about...”

Derek nodded, knowing any words he attempted would get stuck in his throat. 

Stiles smiled affectionately and let out an unsteady breath, something between a relieved sigh and a laugh. “Me, too. I mean...you know. I also...do. Love you.”

Then it was Derek’s turn to laugh, because he _said it_. Derek knew...everyone knew...but Stiles _said it_ and it settled an anxiety in him that he never even knew existed. 

Stiles offered him a hand and Derek forced his legs to cooperate and allow him to stand as he pulled him up into his space. Gods, he smelled amazing. Like cinnamon and warm sugar and vanilla…

Derek didn’t realize he was drifting towards Stiles’ neck, his wolf’s guard down from the copious amount of inviting chemosignals in the air and wanting nothing more than to _smell_ and to _scent_ the man who’d been it’s focus for so long, until he could feel Stiles’ breath across his cheek and he froze. Stiles reached up and brushed the backs of his fingers across Derek’s jaw, then gently hooked his hand around the back of his neck and pulled him in for Derek to bury his face into his neck.

Derek immediately relaxed and wrapped his arms around the shorter man, holding him and nuzzling against the soft skin there. The heady scent of _Stiles_ pushed the awareness of others in the room entirely out of Derek’s mind, because he’d never been this close to him. There had been a few brief hugs here and there, but not like this. Not where he’d been able to linger, to scent, to _have_. There was no room for any other thoughts than _Stiles, mine, Stiles._

Stiles gently pulled back and Derek had just enough mind to withhold the whine his wolf almost let out. Luckily, the feeling of loss was short-lived, as Stiles looked down at his mouth and asked, “Can I kiss you?”

Derek’s eyes flickered down to the soft cupid’s bow of Stiles’ lips and nodded, feeling a little like he might pass out, because _holy fuck_. Derek Hale had kissed a lot of people in his life, but the idea of kissing _Stiles_ was terrifying and thrilling in a way that made him feel like a teenager again.

Stiles quickly surged forward with more urgency than Derek had been expecting and they both stumbled backwards a couple steps, nearly tripping over the piano bench, before Derek steadied them. Stiles clutched onto the front of his shirt like a lifeline and one of Derek’s arms stayed around his waist, while the other hand came up to cradle his face.

“Thank the Gods you idiots have finally gotten your heads out of your asses,” Peter said, startling them both out of their kiss. Derek figured that the sudden blush filling Stiles’ cheeks meant he’d forgotten that they had company, too.

“I feel like I’ve been waiting ages for my two children to stop skirting around each other at every social gathering - it was getting painful,” Noah chuckled.

“It actually felt _longer_ than being trapped in a coma for six years while I was fully conscious and covered in burns. I didn’t think anything would top how painful and annoying that was, but you two did. Congratulations.”

Chris shook his head and smacked Peter’s chest, saying, “Ignore him...but it _was_ getting ridiculous.”

Stiles laughed and pulled Derek closer to bury his face in the junction of the Alpha's neck. Derek leaned his cheek against his soft hair and rumbled contentedly now that he finally had his mate in his arms.

**Author's Note:**

> This took me a ridiculously long time to write, so if you liked it...maybe drop a comment? It would really mean the world to me.
> 
> Thank you for reading :)


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